BY THE WAY
Part - II
Note from the Publisher
Dada (Pranab Kumar Bhattacharya) is present in his office every morning from 8.30 to 11.45. During this time boys, girls and growing-ups from the Ashram come to see him. He also receives visitors. They all have something to ask him and he answers their questions. The visitor goes back happy. All those who are present in his office also enjoy his replies as well as all the stories and humorous incidents he recounts. Time is happily spent.
Amalesh Bhattacharya who has transcribed these conversations sits in a corner of the office and quietly notes everything down. The present selection of these jottings is the second part of By the Way and it is sincerely hoped that all those who read it do so with enjoyment.
It is half past eleven in the morning. A few of us are sitting at the office of the Physical Education Department (P.E.D). Dada too is amongst us. The office-work is almost over. In fifteen minutes the office will close. This is usually the time for a little chat or for a discussion of some specific question.
We can hear the Ashram School bell ringing. It marks the end of the morning classes. A little later a 12-year old boy walks into the office laughing heartily. Dada, laughing, asks him: "What's the matter? You look very happy?"
'Dada, will you tell me an amusing ghost-story today?'
"An amusing ghost-story? Have I told you the one about two ghosts and a fisherman?"
"No, tell it to me."
"Well, listen then. A fisherman was returning home one evening with the day's catch and his wet net strung over his shoulder. It was getting dark as he trudged through the bamboo grove back to his village. Suddenly in front of him he noticed two tall black ghosts. Long-toothed and with straight poky hair, they were having a terrible brawl in their nasal voices. One ghost was on top of the bamboo-trees and the other on top of a palm-tree. One of them was holding a big fish-hook in his hand and shouting: This is called a hook.'
'No! you fool! It is called a gook,' screamed the other.
'No, It is a hook!'
'No, It is a gook!'
The argument went on over this. 'What did you say? That I am a fool? A ghost for the last seven generations and I don't know anything! And you who were born just the other day, you know it all?'
"What nonsense is this? What have ghosts to do with one or sewn generations? A ghost is a ghost. You are just a tree- climbing ghost, you fool!'
I am a tree-climbing ghost? And you live in a bamboo- grove. You are a bamboo-climbing ghost.'
'Okay, look! There is a fisherman coming this way. Ask him if this is a hook or a gook.'
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In the darkness the two ghosts suddenly appeared in front of the fisherman and blocked his path.
'Now, you tell us, is this a hook or a gook?'
The fisherman thought for a while. 'My clothes are wet and I am carrying my catch with me as well. And these two ghosts in front of me! I am in real trouble! What am I to do now?' The fisherman thought a little more: 'If I say It is a hook then the 'gooky' ghost will kill me and if I say It is a gook then the 'hooky' ghost will break my neck!' Then with a flicker of intelligence lighting his eyes, he declared: 'It is neither a hook nor a gook actually!'
'Then what is it?' the two ghosts enquired with great perplexity.
'It is neither a hook nor a gook. It is curved iron!'
*
One day a panic-stricken sadhika from the Ashram turned up before Dada. Dada at once reassured her in his deep voice:
"You needn't fear. Nobody can do anything to you. The Mother is there. We are with you. Rest assured."
There was such a power in his voice that hardly had those few words been spoken when her fear left her and she walked out of the office in silence. An air of quiet gravity hung over the room for some time. Through Dada's voice a power always rises, an assurance and a profound peace. Whatever the difficulty or fear, it is removed in a flash and the body and mind are filled with a sense of confidence and total security. Such is Dada: offering protection like the unshakable Himalaya. The grieving and the afflicted have but to come and stand before him to receive that tremendous sense of solace.
The young and the old, they all come to Dada with then- problems and complaints. They feel better by unburdening themselves and then all fear or worry vanishes.
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The youngsters, in particular, feel they must come and speak to him however small or ordinary their grievance.
Once two little boys had a fight. One of them came running into the office to complain: 'Dada, he called you a fatso!'
Dada asked: "What did he say? Fatso? To whom?"
Angrily the boy replied: 'You ! He called you that!'
Dada burst out laughing.
A little girl was cycling when suddenly a dog ran into her front-wheel. The girl recovered her balance but at once menaced the nasty dog: 'Just you wait! I'll tell Dada!'
Whether it is a serious complaint or a mere caprice it must be told to Dada.
One day Dada was going to the Sports Ground. From quite a distance a young boy hollered: 'Dada! Dada! I have some news. Mummy has had a baby and Granny has arrived!'
Dada was working in his office in the morning when two visitors walked in. Hardly had they sat down when they said: 'Dada, we've come to listen to you. Tell us something.'
Dada was slightly displeased and said: "I am working at the moment. I just can't speak like that at any odd time. There is a time and occasion for everything"'
But these? two were not the type to give in: 'No, Dada, tell us at least something.'
"You just ask' me and I have to start speaking. Am I a machine? In my country there is a saying that if you blabber in the morning then your uncle's cooking-pot cracks!"
How sweetly Dada managed to get around them!
Dada was recounting a funny anecdote about a self-conceited, foolish pundit who knew nothing at all. He had neither any
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knowledge nor any intelligence but he went around telling people that he knew a lot. So one day on hearing this the pundit's wife told him: 'You say you know so much. Why don't you go to the king and recite some of your wise poems and get some royal alms or offerings?' The wife kept repeating the same thing every day.
Finally the foolish pundit said to himself: 'Yes, why not? I can go to the king and recite some grand, pompous verse.' But despite all his thinking he could not decide what to recite. Then suddenly he observed in front of the house a cat that was licking a pot of milk clean. There! Suddenly his inspiration descended. He said to himself: O cat! Why dost thou lickest the milk from the pot?' He recited this a few times and committed it to memory. 'This isn't bad at all!,' he thought, 'I'll go and recite this to the king: O cat, why dost thou lickest the milk from the pot? No, milk somehow doesn't sound quite right. So he recited again: O cat, why dost thou lickest the cream from the pot?' Yes, cream in place of milk is definitely better, it sounds more like Sanskrit!'
So the wise fool went to the king and announced: O Your Highness, I have composed for you a poem and I'd like to present it to you.'
'Fine. Let us have it then,' the king said.
The pundit cleared his throat, took a deep breath and started declaiming loudly: O cat, why dost thou lickest the cream from the pot?'
The king was dumbstruck. 'Is this your poem?'
'Yes, Your Highness.'
'But a poem has to have some feet to stand on, mustn't it? the king asked.
'Absolutely, Your Highness. Didn't I say 'cat'? A cat has four feet!'
The king thought he was joking with him. 'But, O pundit, a poem needs some sweetness. Where's the sweetness here?'
'Didn't I say 'cream', Your Highness? What is there sweeter than cream?'
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The king thought the pundit had come to entertain him and so he laughed heartily and pleased handed him some money and packed him off.
Dada continued: "Well, since we've started with a story of a pundit, let me recount one more about two pundits this time. Ram and Shyam were brothers. Ram, the elder, was a real pundit. He spent all his time reading and writing. He would be surrounded by documents and manuscripts. Shyam, the younger, was just the opposite, without the slightest education. He was into exercise and wrestling. He had opened a wrestling-pit and ran it with a few of his students. He had a formidable, muscular figure.
One day Ram the pundit set off to conquer the world with his learning. In those days pundits used to wander from place to place to participate in intellectual assemblies. Being a true pundit Ram naturally made a lot of money and his fame grew far and wide. On his return back home he had to pass through a village of robbers. The chief robber accosted him and challenged him to a learned debate. 'If you can beat me you are lucky, otherwise all your money will be mine.'
Ram the pundit asked his name.
'They call me the unbeatable pundit,' he answered.
'Well, then, let's begin.'
The two pundits arrived at the debating venue. The villagers streamed in. It was an assembly of all the fools of the village. Then the unbeatable pundit peered intently at Ram and asked him: 'Tell me, pundit, what do the words 'gabya gadang' mean?'
Ram plunged into deep thought. What could these words mean? He had never come across such an expression and so he humbly bowed his head and said: 'I don't know what they mean.'
The assembly of the village-fools stood up on their feet to cheer their victor.
The unbeatable pundit took away all the money from Ram and Ram returned home penniless. He seemed tired and withered.
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'What's the matter with you, brother?' Shyam enquired, 'I was told that you defeated all the big pundits and have returned with a lot of fame and wealth. Then why this downcast look?'
'All you say is true but on the way I met a pundit called the unbeatable pundit and he has beaten me. He asked me the meaning of 'gabya gadang'. I didn't know and so I had to give him all my wealth and return empty-handed.
'But my brother, it is not for you to answer the meaning of 'gabya gadang'. Anyway, let me see what I can do,' Shyam said.
He gathered a few of his well-built companions, disguised himself as a Brahmin pundit and headed for the unbeatable pundit's village. In the village he started asking everybody about the unbeatable pundit. 'I've come to challenge the unbeatable pundit. If he can beat me then all my money will be his.'
When the unbeatable pundit heard this he thought that yet another fool had turned up. 'From him too, like from the previous one, I will take away all his money.'
The pundits' assembly met. All the fools and village bumpkins came together. Shyam and the unbeatable pundit sat facing each other. The unbeatable pundit raised his hand and asked: Tell me, what do these words mean.'
'What words?' asked Shyam.
'Gabya gadang. What do these words mean?'
Shyam got up at once and slapped the unbeatable pundit really hard. The unbeatable pundit was flat on the ground. If he made the slightest attempt to get up Shyam slammed another stunning slap. After these two slaps the unbeatable pundit was dazed into silence.
Shyam-pundit then said: 'What a fantastic fool you are re- ally! Why did you begin with 'gabya gadang''?
The villagers sat speechless and listened. No one moved. They thought a massive clash of pundits was unfolding.
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Shyam-pundit stood up and pointing at the unbeatable pundit announced: 'First there should be Patra padang', that is the leaves have to be spread on the floor. After that 'chhad chhadang', that is water has to be sprinkled to clean the leaves. Then 'chidbichidang', that is puffed rice has to be placed. And only then 'gabya gadang', that is yoghurt has to be poured.'
The villagers heard in awe. This was formidable punditry. The unbeatable pundit had been flattened with just one slap. On top of that this flow of Sanskrit words, patra padang, chhad chhadang, chidbichidang. The unbeatable pundit lowered his head and accepted defeat. On the other hand the well-built companions of Shyam began thrashing the other robbers. No one dared say a word. Now Shyam-pundit ordered:
'Now, give everything back to me, you scoundrel. Whatever you took from Ram-pundit, return everything to me. And add another five thousand rupees to that.'
The unbeatable pundit returned all the money and added another five thousand on top.
Shyam returned home and handing over all his money plus the five thousand to his brother said: 'Here you are. I told you mastering this kind of a pundit was not your job.'
We were talking about how everyone's luck was not the same. Even for luck to come knocking, the suitable day and time is fixed by divine Grace. Dada recounted two stories in this context. One was about a pundit who could hear the auspicious moments, a veritable astrologer. One day the astrologer studied and calculated and found that at a given day and time the king will have tremendous luck. One day he informed the king that after calculations he had concluded that His Highness would have a glorious stroke of luck on such and such day and at such and such time. The king decided to convene an assembly to find out about the astrologer's competence.
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The astrologer arrived at the appointed time and told king:
'Using the water-clock I will indicate to you the auspicious moment. You will at once cut a pumpkin into two with your sword.'
The king, his sword in hand, waited for the signal while his ministers, courtiers and other important people sat still in hushed expectation. The pundit peered at the water-clock and kept count. A big pumpkin lay in front of the king.
Then as soon as the pundit signalled with his hand the king slashed the pumpkin into two. And lo and behold! The two halves of the pumpkin had turned into gold. There was no end to singing the praises of the astrologer. The king too offered him a large reward and saw him off.
Now when he returned home, his wife started nagging him: 'Calculate and tell me when my auspicious moment will come.'
The pundit replied: 'No, my dear wife, everybody is not lucky enough to get everything. But that is no cause to worry. How can the king's luck and our luck be the same?'
But the wife would not relent and insisted that he find out and tell her what there was in store for her. She was sure to have some luck too.
What then could the Brahmin do? After a lot of reflection and calculation he finally spoke: 'Yes, dear wife, you do have some luck in your fate, But this auspicious moment will last just for a fraction of time. This auspicious moment will not last a second longer.'
The pundit's wife was thrilled. She went and got a huge pumpkin and stood in front of it holding a sharp knife. The pundit sat down with the water-clock and started calculating. He sat there calculating for a long time.
His wife, in the meanwhile, began to fidget a little. She had lice in her hair and her head was itching badly but she would not stir. After some more time she could not bear the itch any longer and so she pounced on the tiny louse and placing it on one thumbnail she crushed it with the other. Unfortunately
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just then the pundit also signalled the auspicious moment. Cut', he shouted.
The wife took up the big knife after killing off the louse and chopped the pumpkin into two. But what ill-luck! Nothing happened. The pumpkin remained just a pumpkin.
The wife was furious: 'You know nothing. Nothing at all. The pumpkin didn't turn into gold, did it?'
The Brahmin answered: 'My calculations can't be wrong. I was very careful. But did you chop the pumpkin as soon as I signalled? Remember your auspicious moment was to last only for a fraction.'
'You see, just as you signalled, I was getting rid of a louse that was bothering me and I chopped the pumpkin immediately after.'
'Let me see your nail,' the Brahmin asked.
And there! on the thumbnail glistened a dot of gold!
Dada was talking about women who were taking up all kinds of jobs and proving themselves at various skills. And by standing on their own two feet they were also proving their worth. He spoke about the daughter of a certain gentleman from the Ashram who had been studying law in Bangalore and who had just appeared for her final examination. Just as he was saying this the girl in question walked into the office!
"How interesting! I was just talking about you and you walk in! How are you? When did you arrive?"
'I've just come. I wanted to greet you before doing anything else.'
"Wonderful, then. Have you finished your final exam? So now you are all set to become a lawyer!"
The girl laughed.
"You know, my maternal grandfather was a big lawyer, Dada continued. My uncles lived in Serampore. As a boy of
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seven or eight I used to go there with my father and return to Calcutta at the end of the week. I had school and father had to get back to his work. My grandfather, although a lawyer, was a very devout Brahmin: deeply religious and faultless in his conduct.
"I would ask: 'Tell me, Dadu, what do lawyers do exactly?'
'What else? When there is a case the lawyer must fight for his client and with the help of the law he must try and save him.'
"But what sort of people are judged in court? Are they all good people? Or are there thieves and gangsters and criminals as well?"
'Yes, of course, there are all sorts of people: innocent, good people as well as thieves and murderers.'
"And so you fight for these too?
'Most certainly, I must. That is my job.'
"But you fight for them knowing they are criminals?"
'Well, I have to, my dear.'
"Then you too lie in order to save them?"
Grandfather put on an angry air and exclaimed: 'You rascal!'
As I told you my grandfather was very punctilious and so when it was time to leave I was asked to go and bow before Dadu. And I would go in with my shoes and touch his feet in respect. Once when I went to bid him goodbye he was eating. At once he stood up and laughingly bid me farewell. He didn't, however, go back to his dining table. I had touched his feet wearing my shoes and so he could not touch food anymore. Everyone lamented:
'So, you've ruined Dadu's meal, haven't you, Pinu?'
"How was I to know all this?
On another occasion I went to bid goodbye to him. I was careful enough to remove my shoes before bowing at his feet. But on this occasion too Dadu got up from his meal. He bid me farewell with a smile. Again he didn't go back to his meal.
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What did I do wrong this time? Didn't I take off my shoes? Why isn't he eating then?"
'What if you took off your shoes? What about your leather belt?' everyone complained again.
Everyone would remind me later how I had upset Dadu's meal twice. It was really rare to come across such a scrupulous man even though he was a lawyer.
Someone in Dada's office joked: 'I call them liars not lawyers.'
The girl then recounted a joke. There was a meeting of important people with scientists, doctors and other professionals. There was a lawyer amongst them too. Each one of them was asked 'How much is two plus two'. The scientist answered in a matter-of-fact way: 'Obviously four! Everybody knows that!' The doctor too was of the same opinion. Now it was the turn of the lawyer to reply.
Two plus two is what you want us to make.'
Everyone had a good laugh.
Lawyers are astute, Dada continued. To illustrate this let me tell you a story.
'A husband and wife were lying in bed one night along with their little son. All of a sudden in the course of their ft they got into a terrible argument. The little boy latched what was going on. At one point the husband got so infuriated that he killed his wife. Charged with murder husband appeared in court. A lawyer took up his case. There was only one eye-witness to the murder—the little boy. He had given a detailed report of the act to the police. There wasn't the slightest hope for the accused to be let off. The father nevertheless went to his lawyer and begged him to save him.
'But what about the child's testimony? I don't see any hope of defending you in such a situation. But you could do one thing.'
'Anything you say,' the man answered.
'If you can somehow get this little boy to me then I might try to do something,' the lawyer said.
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After a lot of cajoling the little boy was brought to the lawyer. He began narrating that night's incident mechanically while the lawyer listened intently. When the boy had finished recounting the incident in all its details the lawyer said: 'Tell the judge everything just as you've told me. Only when you finish just add one more sentence: After this I woke up!'
Everyone burst out laughing.
Someone told Dada that he had received a phone-call from a scholar in Oxford named Arindam Chakravarty.'
"Do you know him?" Dada enquired.
'No, Dada, he got my address from the 'Asiatic Society1. He was keen on knowing if I had any solution to the problem of Space and Time.'
"What did you tell him?"
'I told him I had no problem in understanding the concept of Space and Time. A fool is not disturbed by this problem because both the terms are almost one and the same. Space in action is Time and Time in inaction is Space. Suppose a bell rang once. Then after a long pause it rang once again. The sound of the two gongs is Time. And the interval of motionless silence that lies between the two gongs could be called Space. The infinite, immobile extension of Time could be seen as Space and the pulsations in the bosom of the Infinite, its movement or stirring could be seen as Time. The dance of Kali within the bosom of Shiva. Shiva is Space and Kali, Time. In this regard I asked him to go through the Kala-sukta of the Atharva Veda and the famous saying 'Kaloasmi' from the Gita, For me these two facets. Space and Time are two expressions of God. There is a saying in the Veda: 'Kalah sah iyatey paramo noo devah' : the intense whirling atomic pulsations of this vast creation in the heart of this void dense with ananda (beatitude), this is what Space and Time mean. The Chhandogya,
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Upanishad says that within this Cosmic creation there is a great Void and it is this that the Rishis have called 'anim' or 'daharakash'. This is considered to be Space. That is how I see Time and Space. In my understanding there is no confusion. This gentleman from Oxford was going to Benares for a seminar and on his return he would come to see me.'
"You are like Buno Ramnath of Nabadwip!" Dada laughed. Ramnath was a famous pundit from Nabadwip who excelled in logic and argument. He had set up a Vedic school near Nabadwip in the woods and taught there. That's why he was called 'Buno' Ramnath. He didn't take any assistance from anybody even though it was customary for kings to offer patronage to scholars. He didn't know what greed was even though he sought knowledge in the midst of a life of great poverty. His wife too shared her husband's spirit of renunciation and lack of greed. She was a true companion by happily partnering him in both his poverty and in his seeking for knowledge.
One day, except for two fistfuls of rice, there was nothing to cook at home. The wife told the pundit: 'There is nothing to cook.' The pundit didn't say a word. He simply looked up once towards the sky and went out. The pundit's wife looked up towards the sky too and saw a branch of tamarind tree overhead. She thought her husband was indicating the tamarind branch. She cooked the two fistfuls of rice and made a sauce with the tamarind leaves. After returning from school he ate the rice and the tamarind-leaf sauce with great relish. From then on he came to be known also as Tentul or tamarind Ramnath.
On hearing about woodlander Ramnath's scholarship and simplicity the ruler of Nabadwip, king Shivchandra, decided to meet him in his thatched hut. When the king arrived Ramnath was so absorbed in his contemplation that he didn't even notice the king. As soon as he noticed him, he quickly stood up and with great courtesy welcomed the king. On being pleased with the pundit's humble conduct he enquired if
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he lacked anything. 'Do you need anything, sir?', the king asked.
Ramnath bowed respectfully and said: 'Within these four walls I've acquired the wealth of the Shastras. I don't feel II can be in want of anything now.'
The king was moved by the pundit's simple and greedless answer. But then he thought that the pundit had not understood that he was enquiring about his material needs. So he went and asked his wife: 'Ma, if you have need of anything kindly let me know. I will do my best to see that your needs are taken care of.'
'We can eat two fistfuls of rice twice a day, we have a roof over our heads and enough cloth to cover ourselves. What else can one need, O King?'
The king was quite astonished. His wife was exactly like her husband, without any greed and satisfied with little. The pundit had a, perfectly suitable wife.
This Ram pundit impressed everybody in an assembly of scholars by answering all the questions of logic put to him by the renowned pundit Shivnath Vachaspati. Even the common people knew about the fame and intelligence of this poor, greedless pundit.
After a lot of persuasion king Krishna Chandra arranged for pundit Ramnath to receive financial assistance monthly.
One day Rajkumar, or Jagannath as Dada calls him, came to see Dada about the Playground workers who normally receive money in advance for the Pujas. Some of them had be absent and so would lose their wages for that period. What was he to do then?
Dada, full of compassion, advised: "They are poor people. Give them the advance and don't cut their wages for the month."
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Then Dada recounted a story: ""When I was in Calcutta we used to live in a three-storeyed rented house in Hindustan Park on Rashbehari Avenue. On the first floor stayed Motilal Roy who was then the chief editor of 'The States man'. Though a bachelor he had an army of maids and attendants working for him. He was slightly eccentric and a little absent-minded too. Often he would cook and feed all his workers. At times he would finish the cooking and wait for the maids and attendants. They came late but he would wait for them. When they finally turned up he would shout: 'Why are you all late for the meal? Do you know how long I've been waiting for you?'
The workers would retort: 'What can we do, sir? We are poor people and so have no idea of time. How can we know the time if we don't have a watch?'
'Fine, then. Tomorrow I'll buy a watch for each one of you. But then from tomorrow you must all be on time.'
There used to be a sweet-shop opposite the house. With the help of a pair of binoculars he would indicate to his attendants the sweets he wanted to get. He was indeed a most peculiar gentleman.
One day Dada observed: One needs to be generous within to appreciate other people's qualities. He who isn't generous within will never be able to understand the qualities of another. This generosity is inner wealth. You may have worked with the Mother and Sri Aurobindo but if you don't have this you just can't. If you don't carry this generosity within you then with the petty mind you will never understand the greatness of another human being.
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A husband and wife, both teachers, came to meet Dada with their son. He met them and handed them a new-year calendar and a book about physical culture. He asked the little boy what class he was in.
'In class eight,' he answered.
"So you must be about thirteen or fourteen?"
'He is fourteen,' the father replied.
"Do you do any sports?" Dada asked again.
'I play cricket,' the boy said.
'He can hardly play. He suffers from tonsillitis all the time,' the mother informed Dada.
"Yes, tonsillitis doesn't allow the body to be healthy. When I was almost his age, Dada continued, I too had it. My father and uncles were dead against tonsillectomy since they believed in homeopathic treatment. But I am told tonsillitis doesn't go without an operation and the body refuses to get well if it is present. So I would tell myself that if my tonsils were to be removed through an operation I'd be able to take up physical culture and become healthy. And so I started play-acting, pretending that I was suffering from great pain because of my tonsils. I kept saying my throat is paining. I can't eat. It is very painful. This went on until finally Father agreed to an operation. One Dr Captain Pathak at the Berhampur Town Hospital removed the bad part of the tonsils. However he left some of it so that the body would retain its immunity. I was to have one more check-up after a week.
After a week Dr Pathak said I was fine and there was nothing to worry. 'Now you can take up physical culture. Your body will now be healthy.'
And that's what happened. I started regular exercises and I was fine."
As soon as this couple left with their son another family arrived. When Dada asked the boy where he was studying the father replied that he was at the Calcutta Presidency.
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The personal fitness-room attached to Pranab's house
"You see as I look after the physical education department I always ask people if they do any sports," Dada said.
The boy bowed his head in embarrassment: 'No, I don't do anything.'
"So only brain? No brawn? Those who don't practise any physical culture, do you know how we call them? Physically illiterate," Dada said laughing.
"Do you know how old I am, Dada asked. Seventy-five, he answered himself. Even at this age I do two hours of exercise daily. I even do weight training. People usually build a bath- room attached to their bedroom but I've got a gym attached to my bedroom.
"I wanted to know more about the intensity of my exercise programme. So, one day, I made a young man go through my exercise programme. After finishing the routine he said that the exercise programme was quite tough even for a young man like him."
We were talking about south Indian food and why it is usually so sour and hot. The 'rasam' contains a mixture of tamarind water as well as chilli powder.
Considering the weather here, eating both sour and hot seems to be useful, said Dada and continued laughing. Our Ashram doctor Prabhat Sanyal's relative was a 'food-taster' of the Viceroy. After independence when he left the job he was asked why he had done so,
'You see, before independence, it was the Britishers who were viceroys, governors or generals. As their 'food-taster' I used to eat a variety of wonderful dishes. After independence Rajagopalachari became the first governor-general. As his food-taster, I had no desire to try tamarind-water everyday. So I quit my job!'
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A gentleman came to see Dada and began lamenting: 'I had put my son in the Ashram when he was a child. After finishing his studies here he left the Ashram and is now doing well. He is fine but that's not what I wanted. I had imagined would live the ideal of the Ashram.'
"You shouldn't feel this way, Dada advised, he has had good education here and now has a respectable job; he is well settled and happy. What's wrong with that? This is what he wanted. Had he stayed on in the Ashram it would have been against his will and he would have lived the life of a hypocrite. This would have done him no good and done the Ashram no good.
"It isn't easy to overcome the pull of the outside world. Our path here is a very difficult one. Not everyone can walk on it. The Mother never believed in keeping anyone here force. Whatever path one chooses in full freedom is the right path.
"Every year almost twenty-five boys and girls pass out our school. Very few of them take up the Ashram life. Mi of them leave. This year, out of twenty-five students twenty two have gone out and even of these three who will stay or difficult to say. It is the same everywhere. They go to school grow up and then leave. I knew quite a few top-rung work of the Ramakrishna Mission. They too faced the same problem. In order to retain the boys they went on upgrading the educational system, by increasing the number of courses a by using new systems of teaching. But all to no avail. As so as they finish they leave. What's to be done?
"It is true that those who leave realise later that the education they received here and the life in the outside world ha nothing in common. They find it very tough to adjust to that world.
"There are of course many who come back but in the intervening time they seem to have lost something. But there is nothing to be done. We have to be ready for this. I ha seen two to three generations of children going out after
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completing their studies here. Later they return with their own children and tell me: 'We'd like to see, Dada, that our children don't repeat the mistakes we made.' But then these children too do the same. And in this way groups of children come and go, come and go. But not one of them is in an un- happy situation. They are all working in senior positions in good companies. They are happy. That's already quite a lot."
Once while writing a girl's surname Dada made a mistake. She said: 'Dada, I am a Chatterji. I love my family name. Since one loses one's maiden name after marriage I have decided not to get married. The girl was in a jovial mood. So Dada told her: "If you love your family name so much, you should marry a 'Chatterji'. Then you could retain your name."
There were many people at the office. One of them said:
'Nowadays girls don't change their surname after marriage. They keep their own. And it is also legally accepted.'
"Do you know, Dada enquired, how titles like Chattopadhyay, Mukhopadhyay, Bandopadhyay, Gangopadhyay were shortened to Chatterji, Mukherji, Bannerji, Ganguli? Let me tell you"
After winning the battle of Plassey, when Clive became the ruler and peace returned to the country, a group of Bengalis went to Clive with a petition. Clive asked:
'What are your names? And what is it you want?'
'My name's Madhav Mukhopadhyay,' said one of them.
'Matav......Mu.....Mu.....Mu.......,' Clive stammered and could not pronounce the name. 'Your name's much too difficult. You've all brought a petition (aarji in Bengali) and your names are all long and difficult. I will call you Mukherji. And you will be Chatterji, and you will be Bannerji. And after hearing each one's petition he granted them their request.
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One Brahmin didn't turn up with them, a Gangopadhys He preferred to wait for some more time. 'Let's see if t British rule lasts, he said to himself, I'll go and see Clive aft that.' So after a long wait he finally turned up before Clive
'What's your name, babu?' Clive asked.
'Well, sir, I am Gangadhar Gangopadhyay.'
'What, what was that ? Ga......Ga.......Ga....Oh no! It much too difficult, babu.' And Clive continued cleaning 1 gun.
Yurou are very fond of hunting, aren't you, sir? If you come to my place I'll make all the arrangements for your hunt. I a sure you'll love it,' said Gangadhar Gangopadhyay.
'Oh, that's very good of you. I adore hunting. As for your name I shall call you after the guli or bullet in my gun. So I call you Ganguli from now on.'
Gangadhar was overwhelmed: 'What a great honour it for me, sir!'
Everyone enjoyed Dada's story. One of them asked: 'We you told us about all these Brahmin titles. Tell us also about the kayastha titles like Ghosh, Bose, Mitra, Dutt, etc. He did they get these titles?'
"Ah, you don't know that story, then? During the time BaIIal Sen, five Brahmins from Kannauj were brought Bengal. Accompanying these five Brahmins were five kshatriyas who came to take care of them. Ballal Sen asked them one by one who they were.
'Your Highness, I am Ghosh, the Brahmin's servant answered one.
'And I am Bose, Your Highness, the Brahmin's servant answered another.
'And I am Mitra, the Brahmin's servant. Your Highness,' said a third one.
Then the fourth one announced: 'I am Datta, Your Highness. And I am nobody's slave. I am just accompanying a Brahmin.'
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Everyone including the Dattas in the office started laughing when suddenly Dr Dilip Datta, a trustee of the Ashram, came in to meet Dada. 'Yesterday was your check-up day, Dada, but I just couldn't come.'
Dada said with a laugh: "It doesn't matter, really. You are busy, after all. In fact even I had forgotten it was my check-up day."
Just then someone in the office said; 'We were strangely talking about the Dattas. The Dattas are nobody's slaves. They are just accompanying.' Dilipda too had a good laugh on hearing the story.
Near my house, Dada told us one day, there used to be a small garden where children would come and play. Some would swing on a ring attached to a nylon rope hung from a tree, others would play hide-and-seek.
One day I was sitting in my room when suddenly I heard a little boy crying loudly. I came out and saw the little boy surrounded by some others of his own age wailing. I asked them what the matter was.
"Why is he crying like this?'
They answered: 'Dada, we were acting out a play on Bhagat Singh. He is playing Bhagat Singh while we are the police- men. We had warned him that he wouldn't be able to play Bhagat Singh but he refused to listen to us. So he became Bhagat Singh and we the police. We are supposed to beat him up but he is unable to bear our beating and so he is crying.'
I understood that the film on Bhagat Singh that had been shown at the Ashram had inspired them and although it was all play-acting the beating by the police was all quite real. And the poor boy was howling away!
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There is so much corruption in this country and yet it goes on. This is clear proof of God's grace. Let me tell you a story.
Once Mao Zedong, the Chinese Premier, sent an expert to India to see what the internal condition of the country was and why exactly communism was unable to take root there. He was to give the Chinese Premier a report after his visit.
So this expert arrived in India, saw everything, talked . to people and returned to China. But he submitted neither report nor did he go to see Mao Zedong. Finally Mao Zedong sent someone to find out.
It was found that the man had returned from India and had set up a 'prayer room' in his house. 'Now he spends all his time praying and meditating. He has become deeply religious.' Mao Zedong was told.
Mao Zedong called him over and said: 'What's the matter? Why didn't you come and report to me after your return from India? They tell me you are engaged in religious rituals at home and now believe in God. How can you do all this and¦ still be a communist?'
He replied: 'What am I to do. Sir? Why did you send me to India? I didn't believe in God. But when I went to India saw everything, I at once started believing in God. It is such huge country and corruption is rampant. So many people many languages, so many castes, so much theft and robbery endless lockouts and strikes. People don't work and yet the country seems to be running and holding together. After seeing all this I was convinced that there must be some Divine Force that holds the country together, that protects it. If this had not been so the country should have disintegrated," social order would have crumbled. This would be impossible without God. That's why I have started believing in God.'
The talk now turned to Pondicherry. It seems corruption in Pondicherry has greatly increased and people in high places their sons and relatives are involved. If There is a vacant plot anywhere, they get the records in the Registration Office altered and take possession. The police looks away as
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hands are tied. Even if you go to them with a court-order they are unwilling to help and just ignore your pleas. It is alleged that with money you can even overturn a court ruling. What can you say or do after that? If there is corruption at the upper levels of society then anarchy prevails and there can only be the oppression of the weak.
This isn't limited to our country alone. Even Japan which at one time upheld the ideal of truth and honour and law is in a similar situation. Bribes, paybacks and other immoral practices are encountered everywhere. Eight Japanese prime ministers so far have been forced to resign due to financial impropriety. I am told that even in England and America there are robberies and snatchings in broad daylight in public places and these are the advanced countries of the West. Even they are not free from this.
I believe this is Supramental action, the pressure of a higher Truth from above on the collective consciousness of man. As a result, all the filth and obscurity is coming up because all this must be worked out and transformed.
Someone asked: 'Dada, can't this be controlled by a severe rule of law?'
Dada replied: How can you rule if man's consciousness doesn't change? Can you remove darkness with physical strength? You cannot fight out darkness with darkness. The Mother used to say: 'If you light just one matchstick the heaviest darkness can vanish in a second.' We need the light of a new consciousness, the light of Truth. That is why the most urgent need of the hour is the descent of this new light into man's consciousness. Each one must do his work to the best of his or her capacity, do as well as we can, that is the solution. However long it might take, there is no other solution. If each one of us is sincere to the utmost then it won't take much time. The higher divine force then will dissipate the darkness in no time.
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Dada was recounting incidents from his childhood. He was five or six then. An attendant of the house used to take Dad and his brothers out for a walk. The 'Wheeler Shield' football matches had just got over. The stadium used to be fenced off with tin-sheets and spectators had to pay to watch the game It was a well-known, important tournament. The tournament had got over a few days earlier and the tin-sheets removed but the fence was still there. The attendant left Dada and thoughtlessly went away somewhere to chat.
Dada, meanwhile, had collected a pile of stones and was hurling them as far as he could. One of them hit the fence am got stuck there. He hurled another. This time a piece of the stone that was stuck in the fence rebounded and hit Dada on his forehead and he started bleeding profusely. People rush towards him. At that time opposite this ground was the 'Edward Recreation Club' where Raja Manindra Chanda Nandi was present. He had a very nasal voice. On seeing the boy he was very worried and asked: 'Whose boy is he? Whose boy?'
'He is Durgashankar's grandson's boy,' the onlookers an answered. Durgashankar was a friend of the Raja's. Some people helped the Raja carry Dada to a doctor where his forehead was dressed and bandaged. Dada remarked:
I still remember very vividly my uncle Dr Nolinaksha Sanya carrying me in that condition in his arms and trying to console me as he paced up and down the living room.
I still have the mark from that cut, Dada said indicating his forehead.
Nolinaksha-babu was a very courageous, strong person He was secretly collaborating with the revolutionaries Motakaka, Nolinaksha-babu and many others from my family were revolutionaries. Money and help would be provided to the revolutionaries from our house. My grandfather would rant at and criticise the revolutionaries and the nationalists before everyone to create the impression that he couldn't stand them. But behind the scene he would assist and support them. The maharaja of Lalgola would send money to our house and
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this money would be given for the revolutionary work for the country. The police knew that we were against the revolutionaries and so they never suspected us. And this is why the police did not seize our family-gun.
One of my father's uncles, the late Shyamapada Bhattacharya, was a nationalist. And whenever the police went to his house with a search-warrant, we would come to know in advance. Anything objectionable in the house would then be removed from his house and kept at ours. And the police would go back disappointed.
Once, Dada recounted, when I was small I saw a figure sitting in the dark in the drawing room. "Who can it be, I wondered. Seeing me go in that direction my grandfather rebuked me: Why are you going there? What is there? Go inside and do your school-work.'
I came to know later that in the evening hours when it got dark revolutionaries would come to collect money from grand- father.
However, once, the police's suspicion was aroused. Netaji Subhashchandra Bose came and stayed in our house on one occasion. The Magistrate enquired with Kaka: 'Why did Subhash Bose come and stay with you?'
Kaka told them: 'The relatives of my third brother had invited Subhash-babu to their house but my brother's family being absent at that time Subhash-babu was lodged in our house. There is no political connection with his coming or his staying in our house.'
About Nolinaksha-babu Dada said: My uncle was a daunt- less, straightforward man. He was physically very strong. Once he was returning from Lalbagh on his cycle and had to pass through Natungaon, a village on the way. It was known to be the village of dacoits. A few dacoits attacked Nolinaksha-babu that evening. Single-handed he managed to thrash them all and brought one of them on his cycle to the police-station. And just as he handed him over to the police he fainted. He was truly a fearless, powerful man.
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